Summer is in full swing at our house. After returning from a quick jaunt out of town for Father’s Day, we spent the last week running to and from Springfield for Adventure Bible Camp at the Methodist church. Arden has been attending this particular ABC for 3 years and loves it so much that I didn’t begrudge the drive to town each day. Well, I might have begrudged it a couple of days, but I did it, so I think it counts.
As with most VBS or ABC experiences, the highlight of the week is the offering competition. This year, the kids raised money for clean water wells in Liberia – a worthy cause to be sure and A had much to say about how important clean water is around the world. I really do love the idea behind a giving drive and we collected change throughout the house and cars to put in the “girls” bucket each day. Unfortunately, the girls lost the competition and by extension the opportunity to slime the head boy counselor at the end of the week. This seemed to really bother my little competitive camper. We had several conversations throughout the week about the real reason to give – it was pretty clear by day 2 that the boys were destined to be victorious – and that the real “winners” were the boys and girls who would now have clean water because ALL the children at ABC were being generous. I’m not sure it helped soften the blow of defeat, but maybe a few of my words sunk in.
My little one processes things that happen to her in a way that is so unlike her mother. I tend to want to talk about every experience immediately after it happens – I process out loud, moan, cry, yell, laugh – whatever emotion is experienced pretty immediately in my world. But my sweet girl takes her time – it can take her hours or days to discuss things that are bothering her. This was the case after one of the days of camp this week. I picked her up at noon, we did lunch, playing at home, dinner, and relaxing and all seemed to be just hunky doory – but bath time found her crying and trying tell me something that had happened way earlier in the day. Apparently she had been in a dance off at camp and “NONE” of the children had cheered for her so she didn’t win! Oh my goodness – the tears, the drama, the disappointment! After about 30 minutes of sitting in the bathroom as she hiccuped out the story, it turns out that lots of kids cheered for her, but not enough to win. The real problem was the not winning. And let me tell you, I GET IT – I may be the worst loser in the world. I try to be a gracious loser, but there is nothing fun about not winning and there is no way to get around that. So maybe is she is more like her mom than I care to admit or am glad about!
But while I commiserated with her loss, I was doing a little dance inside. Just two years ago, she wouldn’t dream of getting up in front of people – she would cry and run off the platform whenever there was a children’s performance at church. Her face would crumple and she would just lose it – for her to actually get up and TRY to compete in a dance off was a huge step forward for her self confidence. So, while I was disappointed on her behalf over not being the winner, I spent a whole lot of that 30 minutes celebrating her bravery. By the end of our conversation, she was plotting ways to improve her moves for next year and was looking forward to the next day’s music time. Crisis averted, tears dried, drama complete, disappointed mitigated. Hallelujah!
So there was that. In other news, one of the things I’m LOVING about living out here in Petersburg is access to the Dairy Queen. When I was a little girl, I would spend a couple of weeks every summer with my Grandpa and Grandma Bennett. They too lived in Petersburg. My PaPaw would make sure that the freezer was always stocked with Dilly Bars when I visited. We would sit out on the front porch in the evenings after he would come home from mowing all day (he never did retire, just moved from full time work to his own landscaping business) and eat our Dilly Bars side by side on the swing. It is a highlight memory of childhood. When I was 15, I got my first job at the very same Dairy Queen and learned how to actually make a Dilly Bar – complete with the soft serve curly Q in the middle. Back then the bars were made in house and sold in a bag – these days they are pre-made and shipped to the stores in a box and don’t have the Q, but they are still pretty tasty! Last night we swung through the drive thru on the way home from dinner and bought a box for home. Arden and I sat on the front porch and ate our Dilly Bars side by side – it was a good tradition to pass on – T was there too but he prefers a strawberry sundae (I have NO idea why) so he didn’t get in on the Dilly Bar action. It was just a lovely evening to sit outside, giggle, watch fireflies and enjoy a long-standing taste of summer.
Finally, the DOG – he’s on his “get up every hour on the hour” in the middle of the night kick again and I pray every night for a fenced in backyard because the getting up with him so he can wander around in the yard for 20 minutes every hour is getting OLD. Perhaps if he didn’t sleep ALL DAY he wouldn’t be so energized at night!!??? But talking to dog is a bit like talking to a toddler, they just tilt their heads at you and then run off and poop on your floor. Again, good thing he’s cute!
Hope your summers are off to as exciting of a time as ours!
See ya soon!